-All Of Our Dreams-
by Almesiva Moonshadow
Summary: Following someone without question, without remorse, across the open seas, to the Grand Line, and unto the ends of the world itself if need be, never was a type of unbreakable loyalty that didn't come without a heavy, unbearable price afterwards. After I became a pirate by mere chance, a cronicler aboard a ship, I learned this lesson all too well through the eyes of someone's dream
1. 1 The Storyteller

-Chapter One - The Storyteller-

*Narrator's Pov*

I never was much of a dreamer, everything I ever did, was always connected to sheer and cold facts, from the first to the last sentence and to the first and the last word, all covered in unndeniable logic harder then steel itself, all connected to realism, there was never room for anything else, no dream chasing, no imagination, no quests for fame and glory, and as I believed, that was something what only the foolish and the childish cling unto, those who have their minds unsharpened and bent only unto something which equals a fairytale. Until I met my captain on one fateful day I'll never forget even if I wanted to, an outright fool at first site who you'd most gladly greet with a fist in the face if it wasn't for his intimitading size, who like any other pirate in the making, grand or small, known or unknown, had a dream wilder and more mindshattering then any other I ever heard of before, and that was, to be a King. Not just the King of all Pirates, like you'd hear in other tales and exploits written down by the careful hand of a scribe, this man, wanted to be the King of both the Sea, and the Land, of all the Seas and all the Lands, he wanted to be the King of The World.

He told me so himself when we first met, and I believed him to be insane, completely and utterly insane, or perhaps, to console myself of his sorry state, drunk as a man can possibly be to say such rubbish, or fearfully even both in the same time. Sure, even I, againts my will and sanity, have heard of tales of infamously legendary criminal men like Gol D. Roger, who has died only for chasing after something much humbler and smaller then this cretin of a man wanted to chase after so boldly and openly, then the tales of Red-Haired Shanks, of Edward Newgate also known as _"Whitebeard",_ and of Monkey D. Luffy, the Straw Hat Captain who's been ravanging the seas with his mighty yet dangerous pirate crew for years.

_-"One day, ya'll write down my tale, ya will. "-_

He said to me with a smile as wide as the Seven Seas put together and as bright as the summer sun, probably noticing the collection of notes and books I had closely pushed unto my chest staring up at him with disdain and fearfulness, while turning his back to leave after I told him to begone and bother someone else with his demented hallucinations of a madman before I call the Marines to take good care of him, and he did comply without any protest, the perpetual smile still visible on his face as he turned back to me for a brief moment, uttering the words I never forgot to this very day, and which still haunt each and every page I'll ever write down.

_-"The world won't forget this name of mine. The name of Captain Whirlpool. Not a thousand years from now, ya'll see, even ya'll remember it for good."-_

And he was right in every way possible, slightly drunk and insane or simply overly ambitious as he was, and as I watched him walk down the crowded streets of Loguetown, disappearing amidst the moving clouds of faces and people, standing there doumbfounded as I gazed in the direction of his fully turned back for as long as my eyes could track him, no other thought could pass through my blocked mind at the moment, then how I by random chance just met another fool filled with zeal and confidence, in a place of destiny where every scum riff-raff pirate took a stop before venturing towards the Grand-Line to become a Roger-wannabe, a mere copy who had no other fate then have his head removed from his shoulders, and I didn't think much of him, expect of how he'll be just one of many, one of thousands, who will die, in a way far less glorious and known, and that he will ultimately die in wain, I also thought how he should probably lay the drinks off, I could feel the stench of liquir in my nostrils even after he long-since disappeared from my site, this idiot, this Captain Whirlpool. This is where his tale begun…


	2. 2 Yellow Eyes

-Chapter One-

*Yellow Eyes*

_-"…and that's how I defeated a terrible sea kraken by just glancing towards it one time, ONE FREAKIN' TIME I TELL YA, right before its gigantic belly exploded in front of me in a huge cloud of redness, and the next thing I noticed was how the entire oceanic water around me was crimson with blood and thick with entrails as long as ma'h freakin' leg, even longer, 'twas a site to behold, when I reached the shore whilst swimming to safety, I was lookin' like a lobster covered in tomato sauce! Would ya believe it?!"- _

The small tavern hall echoed from the loud, trashing sounds of merry laughter coming from the buff, seated man who was telling the tales of his exploits to two amused looking wenches half-sitting at either sides of his comfortably spread legs, listening to him as if listening to a good, old joke, whilst one of them was twirling her long, ginger locks between her fingers in a playfull manner, and the other holding up a large pint of beer to the burly pirate's mouth, offering him to drink even more, silencing him for a moment while he was busy taking a deep sip without pause from the massive glass mug.

The rest of tavern patrons were giving them stares, bordering from annoyance to silent whispering and unspoken mockery, as most of them were believing that he was nothing more then a liar, a drunken liar, after all, he wouldn't be first pirate waltzing in and most boldly claiming that he did some deed so grand that exceeded everything they ever heard before, only so he could impress a few young, feedbleminded barmaids.

_-"Oh, captain Whirlpool, you were so very brave!"-_

The gingerheaded girl giggled, and it was hard to decipher weather she really meant what she said or was merely pretending and faking to be impressed so she would earn a bigger tip from her completely drunk customer, as a falsely chaste smile decorated her freckled face, while she was circling with one slender finger across his proudly, and almost blantantly exposed chest which was concleaded by nothing at all, expect for a thick, long necklace of heavy gold dangling from his neck and down to his bellybutton, with a huge cross pendant at the end of it, shining bright on the rays of sunlight peeking in from between the bars of a window.

He seemed rich as a man can be, yet in the same time, he looked like a beggar. His dark red hair was unwashed and greasy looking whilst nearly falling down to his muscular shoulders in what seemed a bush of unkept looking scarlet strands, his beard was scruffy and unshaved for what looked like weeks, making him look more aged then he really was, and finally, his clothes consisted solely of shalwar-pants merely a few shades lighter then his own messy mane, and a black, half-torn waist bandana tied around his waist, while his footwear were solely wooden slippers with two shashes between his toenails. He didn't even seem to bother to carry a weapon at his side, no saber, no cutlass, nothing. The man seemed like he had very little cares in the world, expect how to drink down more beer then he already has.

_-"What a joke."-_

One of the patrons whispered to his mate, his words barely hearable behind the sounds of joyful music coming the twisting intrustments of a musician in the solitary corner of the room.

_-"He doesn't even have a crew or a ship. A Captain, my sticking arse!"-_

_-"Oh, ya bet that I'm brave! The Ocean of the North Blue was safe and silent after ma'h passge, I was born there, they were lucky they had someone like ma'h esteemed self to grab that bothersome fish of a kraken, and make a good, ol' stew out of it, according to ma'h special recipy! Pour me anotha' one, lassie, aye!? Ma'h troaths gettin' sore!"-_

Whirlpool responded to the sweet ginger girl and her admiration, be it truthful or false, with even more fearless and uncovered boasting, as he swiftly removed both of his hands from the slender waits of his smiling female conpanions and reached into his bandana and pulled out a handful of somewat crumpled paper Belly bills tied together with a simplest of ropes, and threw it down on his own table, among the wast collection of empty mugs and liquir bottles which he previously ordered and amazingly quickly disposed of, along with an ash thray so full of smoked down cigarettes, that it formed a hill-like pile. Both of the barmaids rose from his lap as if struck down by thunder, one of them greedily grabbing the money he so charmingly threw at them and forced it down her lush cleavage, and speedily ran over to the bar, fetching him another round of drinks, whilst keeping her pleasant smile intanct and pointed towards her most favourite, and currently, most profitable red-haired patron, who in spite of his obvious arrogance just gave her five hundred Bellies on a whim, literarly pulling out of his pants like it was nothing, and as always, asking for absolutely no change in return, thus making him someone who comes before all of her other current customers in the terms of service. The many eyes of gamblers, shady-looking figures, common drunkards, slackers, seadogs on dry land, from the entire hall were curiously upon him at the moment.

_-"What ye all starin' at!? Ya wanna drink too!? Well fine then, booze fer all! Booze Galore, mateys!"-_

He yelled at them all half pissed and half euforic, as he smacked the newly filled beer flagon the barmaid so carefully served him on the table, sippling some of the white foam all over it's surface, and was soon followed by a small crowd cheering as the other patrons happily raised their bottles and mugs to their generous benefactor who was now obviously barely keeping his own eyes open, leaning clumsily over his massive mug as he attempted to drink this one down as fast as he did with the others, before being knocked out on the wooden table by his own liqour, and he would not, defintelly not let something so embarassing happen, even though he lost count of how much he already poured down, everything started to get blurry and heavy on him. His own head was heavy as a rock, as he cought the glimpse of two pair of odd-looking, emotionless yellow eyes staring at him from one of the solitary tables beside the playing musician in the corner, noting that he was the only one who was not cheering that he got a free drink from him.

_-"Ya ungrateful lil'fucker."- _

Whirlpool mumbled to himself quietly and filled with obvious discontent as he stared the stanger down before taking in another long and renetless sip, paying no heed of the how the room suddenly turned as silent as a grave when all the guests, within less then a breath's notice fell terribly speechless, and how even the jumpy, repetative beat of the song running through his ears disappeared, leaving only a few scared gasps behind which soon ceased to exist in the same, unexpected fashion.

The wooden bar door was swiftly crashed back into its own frame, as a pair of three tall, treathening figures casually walked through with slow, dragged steps inside the grim tavern which right at the moment closely resembled a burial chapel, more then a place of joy and drinking, while all the shocked gazes were piercing the faces of the new arrivals who were just standing in the center of the room without uttering as much as a single word, casually looking around as if though they were searching for something in particular. Their identites were not as familiar as they'd want to show off, and from the telling of it, Whirlpool came to conclusion that they were merely local ruffians or hill bandits who were here to intimidate the village populace over a free drink, a free stay-over in one of the rooms on the top floor of the tavern inn, and perhaps if they are really lucky, a rumble with one of the youthful barmaids, disregarding their ugly mugs.

_-"Can I help you, laddies?"-_

The ginger tavern maid asked them as politely as she mastered, the fear in hear voice awfully evident.

_-"Shut your trap, you trollop! We're here to drink, what else do you think we'd want! Huh!? Stupid woman!"-_

Their snide leader responded rudely, too rudely almost, his foul breath smelling of garlic strongly, and Whirlpool felt this fist itching to polish to arrogant dog's face for calling his favourite barmaid in this village stupid, true, she was a trollop, but she was smart enough to know his favourite drink of choice everytime he visited and to cook his favourite meals whenever he payed for it, and that was more then sufficent for him on the field of a woman's mind. He nearly felt like raising up from his seat when one of the brigands approached his table instead, sparing him even that trouble, yet the stench following this man was even more unbearable then the breath of their leader.

_-"This happens to be our spot, and you happen to be occupying it with your fancy ass."-_

He spoke as if through he was ready to breathe fire at the red-haired man any second now, but was obviously looking only for a fight, considering how nearly half a dozen other tables stood empty. Whirlpool's gaze still remained firmly on his nearly finished mug, as he slowely raised his gaze towards the place where that yellow eyed cretin who didn't want to cheer to him was sitting, but his place stood completely empty now…where did he go without him ever noticing…it didn't even matter, any moment now, any moment now he would…

_-"Yo, you little shit, I said…"-_

The man didn't even get a chance to finish his pathetic sentence, when Whirlpool jumped from his chair and rose up to his full size, without thinking grabbing one of his empty flagons from the table, raising it high in the air, and swingging it towards the man's head who didn't even manage to take notice of what was happening, nonetheless Whirlpool was cought off guard completely himself, when his own hand was stopped in the act by someone else's and then twisted to the point until the bottle fell to the ground and shattered to a hundred pieces within an instant, and he nearly choked on his own spit when he met the ever-so serious face of the who just interrupted him in his improvisation of an attack. Yellow eyes? That stranger in the corner from earlier? How did he even manage to get here so quickly from the other side of the room, Whirlpool wondered in pure shock and disbelief, coming to the conclusion that the alcohol must have made his mind delusional, and that's he starting to see some kind of weird cat people swooping around the room with the speed of the freaking wind. The yellow eyed young man just answered his silent confusion with a courtly glance, and without saying anything whatsoever, finished off the rowdy bandit who was also petrified with bewiledered awe with one quick move of his fist, and the next thing evident was, that the lowlife was gracing the wooden tavern floor unconciously with his nose bleedly, obviously broken.

_-"Oy, yellow-eyed creep-o, leave some for me'self as well, will ya!"-_

Whirlpool yelled with annoyance, his brow furrowing, as he picked up his chair and threw it towards the leader…

The aftermath of the brawl resulted in all the patrons fighting between each other whilst engulfed in what seemed a battlefield of wreaked chairs, flipped tables, spilled drinks and broken teeth, along with a no small amount of men sprawled out on the floor groaning in pain, so the bandits firstly breaking into the tavern were completely forgotten in all of the mess that ensued, while the bairmaids were sobbing in anger and desperately attempting to rush everyone outside so they could clean up the chaos left behind before the owner of the tavern finds his locale in such a sorry state, and they spared Whirlpool, who they were lovingly doting over just a moment ago, nothing but angry glances.

_-"Ohoy, it ain't ma'h fault they demolished the place, now is it!? Yellow-eyes here delivered the first blow, ya know, while I only hit their garlic-stinkin' leader with a chair a few times over the head, I didn't even hit too hard and stuff, fucken hell!"-_

He pleadingly yelled towards the barmaids as they closed the doors of the tavern shut, ignoring him in every way, along with everyone else they dismissed outside from the patronage which now looked like a sorry mess of people with bruises and and torn clothes, as they dragged themselves away from the site, and each of them to their own distintinct route.

_-"And as for…for…"-_

Whirlpool enragedly turned towards the yellow eyed man, who was shorter and seeminly much younger then himself, awkwardly attempting to adress him under a different name then _"yellow-eyes" _this time, but having knowledge of no other that he could possibly use, raising his index finger in the direction of his largely unfamiliar brawl-mate's nose as if warning him on something he has yet to say, noticing only now that under the sunlight outdoors his hair seemed deeply blue, and then starting to feel even more vexed when the pale, seriously grim young man returned his attempts to cuss for no reason, with solely one, cold word of indulgence.

_-"Fiif"-_

He introduced himself by name, simply and shortly, and the sound of it resembled that of a swift, skillfull swing of deadly steel.

_-"I don't like ya at all, kiddo."-_

Whirlpool retorted immeditelly, turning away in a theathrical manner from him as if though acting offended, crossing his arms across his chest in protest, and raising his nose high, finding that name too strange for his tastes, and the man too frigid to be actually fun to speak with, even in a casual way. His day was ruined all in all, he wasted all of his money on buying drinks to barely familiar riff-raff, his wenches were angry with him, and now even some random kid was giving him the bored looks. At least he was happy about being able to smack someone in the mug most soundly, if it only wasn't for this weird person beside him stealing his spot light back there.

_-"We're off to a good start then."-_

Fiif added with a disturbingly calm voice, staring at his pouting with purest apathy, his face resembling a stone.

AN: Credits to my friend, Fiif, for giving me some really amazing ideas. Thank you very much. Pleasure co-operating with you. This story wouldn't even exist without you.


	3. 3 Hope Comes in a Box

-Chapter Two-

*Hope Comes in a Box*

-Narrator's Pov

"_Every great story must have a humble beginning, or so it is said, and the story of my captain began in a place where an unsighly collection of pirate men drowned all of their sorrows and all of their dreams in a cup of sweet liqour or in the pleasures and wiles of women who filled those very cups, in an unfamed tavern and in an unfamed village shores of the Red Line which embraced the sea of the North Blue, the same way the disowned, unlucky captain Whirlpool embraced his own self-wallowing, before, according to his own words, that wicked bitch, Lady Luck smiled upon him, and had him stranded againts his will in a place which was always looking out towards the vast wideness of the sea, yet preventing him from reaching out towards it, for he lacked one thing every sailor, no matter the goal, needed in order to feel free…and to be able to mount the wild waves and to ride upon them in a manner more glorious then Poseidon himself would."_

_-"A Ship, I tell ya!"-_

Whirlpool's excited voice boomed without much notice as to what the slightly confused and busy bypassers on the small, wooden docks thought about the tall, red-haired man casually strolling by and yelling on top of his lungs, while somewhat descriptively attempting to explain something important to his shorter, blue haired companion, who seemed like a gloomy contrast to the cheerful man, dressed in a short, dark indigo colored kimono bound with a white rope, having long, ripped sleeves, black pair of tights, and a blue scarf matching his hair bound in a long, straight ponytail. Fiif didn't look very worried on account of a ship, nor very enthusiastic, actually, it seemed like he was hardly listening at all, staring away towards a random point in front of him as he slowly walked beside his irritating walking mess of a companion.

_-"No man of the sea is worth much without one, aye."-_

Whirlpool continued forcefully, almost as if talking to himself, or rehearsing some line he wanted to publicaly preform on stage.

_-"It's like havin' a cock, and not havin' wha' to poke with it, it's so sad."-_

He turned his shocked, almost dreadfuly terrified gaze towards Fiif, as if he wanted to desperately catch his attention while pointing down at his own crotch in an outburst which lacked censuring in the middle of the broad daylight, where even the pirate and smuggler gangs with their crews, going about their bussines while stocking goods into their storages aboard the multiple little ships in dock, took a stop solely to take a look at what was happening around them, and why the sudden hysterical yelling to disturb their shady work.

Ever since Fiif firstly met him a month back and started traveling with from island to island on the northern shores of the Red Line by a boat which they had to maneuver all alone, he's always been like this, and one could say that a man gets used to a lot of things when he has no choice, just like Fiif had none now.

_-"We have a boat, to begin with."-_

He quietly answered Whirlpool's dilemma, his voice barely matching that of a whisper, as he thought that anything it takes to leave this part of the Red Line will do him good, both of them, since both of them were stranded. Fiif, for reasons of his own which he'd rather not share with the loudmouth, and the loudmouth, probably because he's a self imaginary captain who annoyed his previous crew and actual captain, drank all their liquor, and then reached the point where they abandoned him on a random island just to get rid of him.

_-"Wha' are we goin' to achieve with a freakin' boat, tell me? Are we goin' to stumble upon a pirate ship while lost in the middle of the bloody Ocean, then squeal like some pussies would and plead "Please m'lordies, accept us aboard, we'll clean yer fuckin' deck if need be, just don' let the fishies eat us, we have no booze left, so that means we're freakin' doomed fer sure!"-_

He got even more of upset at Fiif's apathic response, stopping in the middle of the improvised dock promenade, spreading his arms wide, and throwing another apolacyptic fit, basicaly trying to say, from what Fiif processed from the entire ramble, that if they don't have enough alcohol on their journey, they are surely, most surely going to die a most horrible death.

He rolled his eyes, finding all of this unbelievable. Unbelievably stupid. Was this man next to him serious, or was he just a really good joker?

_-"We have plenty of provisions, more then enough for an entire week out in the open sea. There shouldn't be a worry until we get off this blasted set of islands, and find a more suitable way of transport."-_

The blue haired young man attempted to reason with him as he would with a little child crying for more candy, trying to convince him that for as long as they have drinkable water and basic samples of packed food, they can survive out in the sea if they don't run into any trouble. And if they do, they'll fend themselves off as best they can. Why was this dude even calling himself a captain when lacking basic knowledge of everything connected to the sea other then daydreaming and mermaids with volutptrous bossoms. And even worse, what was Fiif even doing caught up with him, he wondered almost tiredly now.

_-"You did buy some more from the Belly we put together, right? Provisions, I mean."-_

Fiif attempted to remind him knowingly, gazing carefully towards the large and heavy-looking backpack Whirlpool had thrown over his shoulder, spending nearly their last money on the contents of the bag he so non-chalantly had been carrying all along, and which Fiif enthrusted him to guard, along with choosing the provision for the next unpredictable week to come.

_-"Aye, sure, ya take me for a dimwit, eh?"-_

Whirlpool retorted while not giving a concrete answer, almost sounding offended as he assumed that someone would mistrust his choices in the matter, while pulling down the pair off black sunglasses from the top of his head he bought along with the provisions, turning his head away from Fiif, and directly towards the bright, morning sunrise on purpose, as he smirked arrogantly.

They could clearly see their small, sad looking boat at the egde of the docking path tied to a wooden post on a thick rope, looking somehow unsecure and shaky, just like it's owner, Whirlpool did at the moment, and Fiif could do no other but play along, seeking passage at one of pirate or trading ships which surronded their tiny spot didn't guarantee safety for him, probably less safety the if he jumped into the sea right now, and let the sharks rip him apart. He needed something inconspicous, and he got it.

He was getting slightly paranoid, he noticed, or merely careful, as he took into consideration the fact, that as they strolled down their path, he kept noticing the same shady figures circlicing down the dock promenade over and over again, looking towards them from time to time, probably curious sailors, after examining their unfiroms, who were slighly drunk early in the morning and who didn't see their faces around here before. Yeah, that was it. But there were far different figures to be seen too, most of them looked like beggars or common cuttroats gathered in smaller groups on the beginning of an alleyway, just waiting for an opportunity to pick someone's purse or just to pick on someone, anyone, and Whirlpool sure knew how draw a lot of attention to myself wherever he went. There were even girls among them, some of them merely children, one of them was particulary striking of features and was looking straight at him with dark colored eyes and dark expression at that, and Fiif didn't know if he should feel sorry for them all or disgusted.

Only when they finally started rowing the paddles with as much as force as they could possibly muster, two for Fiif, two for Whirlpool, in order to progress as fast as possible out in the open sea, with their only luggage being their own body mass, the bag of food, and an easy, yet large-ish, empty box which Whirlpool kept around so he could use it as a shelter for his head when it's raining and he finds himself restin his back out in the open, preventing the essential part of his body, his head and essentially his brain, from getting wet, as Fiif mused with humor, only now noticing that Whirlpool didn't stop talking the entire time, and that he himself was lost in his thoughts all along, creating a bridge of heavy silence between them, at least, one-sided silence, when all of a sudden, the box Whirlpool was leaning on with his back busted open, reaveling a human-like figure emerging from it, loudly yet swiftly, a sharp object clutched between her dirthy-looking fingers, aiming towards the red-head's neck before he could even react, and he instantly regonzied those rageful eyes back from the promenade.

It was the girl! How did she even get on the boat without them noticing!? Lest inside the box itself!? Why were her dark eyes glistering with pure hatred that made him confuse her for some nightmarish thing!? He didn't think a moment longer, the world was shaking as he reached towards her, with Whirlpool turning towards her and lifting his wooden paddles towards her face to disable her, their little stowaway, seemed to made him feel like he was moving like within a dream.


End file.
